Congratulations to Zygmunt Krauze, who has been awarded the French Légion d’honneur.
More on Krauze here.
Welcome to all those arriving here from Alex’s kind words in the New Yorker this week. This isn’t really an mp3 blog (although I have posted some avant-garde mixtapes of my own in the past), but I’ve just uploaded these for someone else, so I might as well share the links here.
If you thought the Polish avant garde of the 1960s was all about Penderecki and 101 Penderecki-clones, then say hi to Boguslaw Schaeffer. Schaeffer is one of the most interesting composers to come out of that whole period in Polish music – he’s known as a playwright and graphic artist these days, and both the visual and the theatrical feed into his music. I understand he’s known in the US mostly for his Introduction to Composition (1974).
I don’t know nearly enough of Schaeffer’s work first hand; probably the most well-known piece of is the 1966 Symphonie, which appears on those fantastically expensive Electronic Panorama LPs that Philips put out years ago. I gave it another listen today (no, I don’t have the LP, no I wouldn’t sell it if I did); it’s not that great actually, and I have a feeling the mp3 I’ve got cuts it short anyway. But here are a couple of other Schaeffer schlices:
Little Symphony: Scultura: http://rapidshare.com/files/62731840/03_Little_Symphony__Scultura.mp3.html
Recorded at the 1969 Warsaw Autumn by the Poznań PSO and Andrzej Markowski. Composed in 1960.
I’ve previously mentioned Zygmunt Krauze’s new music ensemble Warsztat Muzyczne; this is a piece Schaeffer wrote for them (they perform it here), and is a minor classic of its type in Polish music. (You might remember this from my first Blogariddims contribution.) I love it – it sounds like mayhem, but it holds together somehow to moving effect.
There’s very little writing on Schaeffer in English – Adrian Thomas’s book on Polish music is your best bet (and contains more examples of his amazing graphic notation). If you’re OK with German, then this is the book you need. This book also looks very desirable.
Everyone will have read it by now of course, but while I was away the NYT’s ‘The Greatest Minimalist Albums: Ever!’ article caused a lot of comment. I haven’t got much to add to Kyle and Steve‘s remarks other than to say that the fact that the NYT even attempted such a survey puts most of the British press to shame.
The so-called East European Holy Mininmalism of Part and Gorecki was pretty much sui generis, rooted in counter-communist early Christian monodies, unaware of US trends.
Not entirely true. A quick check in my Warsaw Autumn 2004 book shows that although Reich (Clapping Music) wasn’t heard at Warsaw until 1977, one year after Górecki’s Third Symphony was completed, by this time Terry Riley’s music had been performed no fewer than four times: Keyboard Studies in 1968, In C in 1969, Dorian Reeds in 1973, and the Riley-John Cale collaboration Church of Anthrax in 1974. More revealing for a demonstration of Polish awareness of American minimal trends is the fact that the influential Polish chamber ensemble Warsztat Muzyczny (Music Workshop) were the performers of In C, and their leader, the composer and pianist Zygmunt Krauze, was also one of the performers of Keyboard Studies (along with John Tilbury and Gérard Fremy, neither strangers to the American scene). Krauze’s own music had, since the early 60s, been following a small-m minimal aesthetic, influenced by the Unistic paintings of Władysław Strzemiński.
Strzemiński, Unistic Composition no.11 (1930–32)
I don’t know precisely how aware Krauze was of American min
I can’t speak for Pärt to the same extent, but I find it extremely hard to believe that works like Perpetuum mobile (1963) and Solfeggio (1964), both long pre-dating the ‘Holy Minimalist’ tag, were as sui generis as Lebrecht would like to believe. (Incidentally, Perpetuum mobile went down a storm at Warsaw Autumn in 1964 and was swiftly performed in several other Soviet bloc capitals.)
There’s a second, more obvious, blooper in Lebrecht’s post – Michael Nyman didn’t, of course, write the score to The Pianist (that would be The Piano). The honour should have gone, instead, to Wojciech Kilar, another Pole whose music – ironically – has shown more than a passing influence from minimalism itself in the past.